Hans Larsson

"I'd rather not talk about her." Rekker's words are dark and there's a sadness there. Talking about his ex would destroy his mood. Instead he focused on the task at hand.

He had a blended oil for his hair when it got dry and had imagined it would help the bleach damaged mess on the Swede's head. The oil had a mix but tea tree and Jojoba were dominant in the scent. The anxiety was still there causing his fingers to feel cold and tingly. The meds weren't fully kicked in yet and until then he had to fight the desire to run or panic.

"You look like a drenched clown." Rekker smirked as he came back over with a handful of oil for Bjorn's hair. He wasn't wrong. All the running make up was a mess. The guitarist though was back to the Swede's hair, working the oil into the ends, especially where it was particularly damaged or dry. "You need to leave this in for at least five minutes."

The instructions were given while Rekker's hands were still in Bjorn's hair but his eyes were on his pale skin and how close they were to each other.